


The Story of Ewe

by Doceo_Percepto



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bendy is eldritchy, Breeding Kink, Forced Pregnancy, Henry doesn't do much but I love him, I love him even when he does nothing, Other, POV Second Person, Tentacles, bit of cum inflation, bit of mind control ink, bit of oviposition, sammy is caretaker lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: You should never have entered Joey Drew Studios.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title by Happy lmao

Joey Drew Studios was a defunct, rotting building near-collapsing on itself, with a sign so worn it was almost unreadable. The Bendy cartoons the studio was once famous for had dropped from television and popularity eons ago. It was a mystery why people didn’t just bulldoze the damn place and build something new, something _worthwhile._

Maybe they didn’t because of the rumors that hovered around it, though you didn’t think the government would give two shits about local superstition. It was none of your business, anyway, and you should never have goddamn entered. But your friends liked to hang around the place, because it was edgy and cool. They liked to tell all those stupid stories that you never believed, about people disappearing forever into the studio and never returning. Once, just once, you lost your patience. Snapped. Told them that it was stupid everyone spent so much time talking _about_ the place but nobody actually went in. If they just spent 15 minutes in there, they’d realize there was probably nothing but cobwebs.

That’s when they dared you to enter. 

So you thought it was only cobwebs. 

Broken furniture, maybe, remnants of a company long extinguished. 

“Fine,” you’d growled. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Fifteen minutes, you thought. Fifteen minutes wandering around the place and you’d come out smirking to tell them all they were being stupid. 

9:17 your watch said when you entered. The air was acrid and stale, the floorboards creaked like they were going to collapse. Cobwebs, amazing. And everything smelled thickly of ink. There was ink _everywhere. _At first, there wasn’t much else. You were thinking you would only wander a bit, because delving too deep in the studio might be really dangerous - who knew what kind of structural issues it had?

So you walked carefully, cautiously, attentive to every creaking board. You stopped, checked your watch. 

9:19 it said, seconds before you came across the first living thing in the studio. 

You spotted him out of the corner of your eyes and nearly gave yourself a heart attack to realize there was a face staring at you from the shadows. He was a gaunt, shallow husk of a man, staring like he’d never seen another living person before, and your instant thought was _oh my god why didn’t I think about homeless people?_

Your heart thudded. 

“Christ,” the man whispered, staring. 

You noticed a detail you hadn’t glimpsed at first: he had a goddamn _axe. _

“Why did you come here?” The man whispered, as if entering was the worst possible thing you could do. 

“I am - I am so, so sorry,” you laughed nervously, because of course you tended to laugh when you were anxious and his presence made you very nervous. All your mother’s oft-ignored warnings about strangers were flashing through your mind. “I’ll just um - be on my way-“

“Wait-“ the man said, but there was no way you were hanging around. 

You speed-walked with as much grace as you could muster back to the entrance of the studio.You yanked on the door, but it wouldn't budge. Not a goddamn inch. So you banged on it and hissed at your friends that _this isn’t funny, let me out_. Things you didn’t say included that there was an insane homeless man with an axe and I swear to God, if he kills me, I’m haunting every one of you - but you definitely thought it. 

You were snarling furiously through the keyhole when the man caught your elbow.

“Stop, stop,” he whispered. “Don’t yell- you need to be quiet. Or Bendy will hear you.”

You ripped instinctively out of his grip and slicked yourself to the front door in terror. Oh my god, what?

“Bendy?” You echoed numbly. That was the name of the main character from the old cartoon. This guy thought the character was going to _hear_ you?

The man nodded solemnly, like this was a matter of life and death. He went to introduce himself - Henry.As he continued talking, you learned Henry was completely and utterly _insane_. You didn’t know if he was on drugs or in the middle of a psychotic break, but he explained to you in low tones that it was absolutely paramount you remained silent. Bendy, see, was a monster. He was the studio. He was the Ink Machine. He was everything. 

You nodded and smiled and agreed with Henry because he had a fucking axe, and you didn’t think disagreeing with the crazy homeless guy with an axe was a _grand_ idea. _Especially _once you noticed dark blackish stains on the edge of his axe that looked way too telling for you. God, what if he had already killed someone? What if you were talking to a murderer?

Henry noticed you looking at the axe.

“This is for the Searchers,” he murmured. Always, always he whispered. It was just another weird thing about him, probably relating to his whole delusion that the cartoon character monster thing would hear him. His voice was raspy, like he hadn’t spoken normally for years or decades. “I can protect you from them,” Henry said, “but Bendy is something different.”

This guy’s whole story about ‘Bendy’ was obviously bullshit, but to tell the truth, it creeped you out when Henry talked about him. Henry’s eyes got this haunted, disturbed look. Like he’d seen and experienced things no mortal being ever should. 

“Bendy can’t be fought,” Henry continued. “He’s…” Henry shuddered. “God, Joey should have never messed with the Ink Machine.”

“Okay,” you nod. “That sounds terrible. Do you have a key to the front door?”

Henry laughed, which startled you. It wasn’t a sane person’s laugh. It was deranged. Towards the end, it sounded more like a strangled sob. He dragged an ink-stained hand over his face. “If I had the key… God, I’d give anything to leave this place.”

You nod, tight lipped. “Uh, yes, sir. I feel the same way. So how about… we leave now?”

His hand slid off his face. His gaunt face was dressed in a deep despair. “I know you think I’m crazy. I would think I was crazy if I was in your position…” he looked away, to the shadows in the corners. “Sometimes I wish I was crazy, because it’d be better than this…”

It was downright eerie how he could look so rational sometimes, but he was clearly out of his goddamn mind. The “crazy person who doesn’t know he was crazy” but way, _way_ worse.

His eyes drifted back to yours. His were bloodshot, and sunken into his skull. He was on drugs, you knew it. Something real bad, to look that messed up. If he didn’t scare you so much, you might have pitied him. 

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” you responded slowly, because it seemed like the safest thing to say. “I just - I want to get out, too. So… is there another exit?”

He shook his head. “Kid…” his look was helpless. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been here. Can’t tell you what the Ink Demon has done to me.”

“The Ink Demon?” You said faintly, voice tilting up at the end. Great. He believed in demons, too.

“Shh! Whisper.”

“The Ink Demon?” You tried again.

Henry shook his head. “Bendy. You’ll meet him, eventually. But the longer you can avoid him, the better.”

You really wished Henry would let go of his axe.

“Okay. I’m just going to check the door again.” You sidled towards the door, watching Henry to make sure he wouldn't go lunging after you. 

The knob rattled futilely. You peered through the keyhole, but saw only backness. “Guys,” you hissed into the crack. “Open the fucking door.”

Nothing. 

You checked your watch, the glowing little numbers reading 9:35. You had passed the fifteen minutes. Maybe this was some sick joke, where they wanted to scare you, just to prove they were right in some capacity. 

“You selfish idiots,” you hissed. 

“Hey,” Henry said softly behind you. 

You looked back.  His axe dangled at his side. His eyes looked infinitely sad. “I’m sorry, but… what year is it?” He asked.

Christ, he was messed up. 

“Two thousand nineteen,” you answered, astounded by how wrecked his brain was. 

His face crumbled. “Over fifty years…”

Okay, he was having some kind of break down over there again. He was really freaking you out with this crap. You tried the door knob again helplessly. No luck. 

“All right. I’m going to go look for another exit, okay?”You talked to him gently, like a spooked deer. God knew the last thing you wanted to do was alarm him, but it seemed that’s exactly what you did - 

His eyes went round, horror flooding his expression. “_No_,” he whispered. “Bendy’s deeper in the studio… he _is_ the studio…You’re not safe here, or anywhere further down.”

No, you really weren’t. Not with Henry around. But you were scared to push him, in case he became more manic. “Okay, okay,” you said, lifting your hands up. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“I can take you somewhere,” Henry said. “A safehouse. I share it with Boris.”

Oh no. This guy wanted you to go somewhere else alone with him. Deeper in the studio. Further from your friends.Maybe where there was second lunatic - some guy named Boris? Wasn’t that the name of another Bendy character? You laughed nervously, brain whirring to figure out how to reply without escalating the situation. “Thank you… but I really should stay here and wait for my friends.” 

Henry looked like he was going to protest, then stopped. “You’re scared of me. I… I understand. This must be a lot to take in. But I swear, I’m the good guy here.” Henry seemed to realize how unconvincing he was, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “God, what am I saying… you have no reason to trust me. You don’t believe any word I say, do you?”

“Uhh, yeah, I do,” you answered weakly. 

Henry sighed, and looked down at the floor. “I get why you won’t follow me. Just… if you don’t listen to anything else I say, please listen to this… the Ink Demon will hurt you if he finds you. He’ll do things worse than death. Unspeakable things. Stay far, far away from him.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied faintly. 

He nodded. “I’ll get you some soup. Please don’t wander.” With that, he slunk off down the hall and into darkness. You slumped in relief. Henry had been creepy… and it was even weirder how he seemed so sane at times, while at other times spouting crap about the _Ink Demon_…

The door knob still didn’t open when you tried again. You banged on it more. Yelled at your friends. Still nothing. Cursing, you looked around the floor for something you could use to pick the lock if possible, but there was nothing. All you knew is you wanted to get out of this place, NOW. If only Henry had left his axe, maybe you could have axed the door down… it wasn’t like anybody would really care: this hovel was clearly just full of druggies. 

But… maybe you could find something useful around the studio to pry the door open? You hung around for a few minutes longer, before deciding your friends weren’t going to let you out and you really didn’t want to be here when Henry returned. 

(Where the hell were your friends? Did they abandon you?) That stung deep, but mostly you were too afraid for yourself to think about it more beyond being pissed. Surrendering to the fact you were going to have to help yourself out of this situation, you left the door and began to wander deeper into the studio, keeping an eye out for anything that might prove useful. 

You found a bunch of desks, some still with Bendy sketches on them, some littered with family pictures or other belongings like the people here had left in a big hurry. Maybe Joey Drew Studios closed down fast, and people just abandoned their stuff? 

Whatever - the point was, you couldn't find anything of use here.

You backtracked, passed a few projectors. Some empty drawers. Some cans of bacon soup. There was nothing here… nothing you could use. You began opening and closing doors. A closet. Storage for more projectors. Stairs. 

_Stairs_.

They wound down into darkness so deep that you could see nothing. You hesitated. Maybe you could get something to help you down there. Maybe you would just get lost… All you knew is you weren’t brave enough to go into the darkness.

That was when someone grabbed your wrist, and you screamed, whipped around. 

It was Henry. 

“What are you doing?” Henry snarled. 

“I’m trying to find a way out of here-“

“Bendy’s down there.”

“Okay.” You watched Henry cautiously, hoping he wouldn't make any sudden movements. “Okay, sorry.” It wasn’t like you planned on going in the dark, anyway. 

Your response seemed to relax Henry. He held out an aluminum can. “Here. Bacon soup. It’s not the best, but it’s all we’ve got here.”

You stared at his outstretched hand like he was holding poison. Because maybe he was. 

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, not keen on eating something provided to you by a manic stranger who hung out in abandoned studios with axes for fun. No, thanks. 

“Right.” Henry dropped his hand. “If um, if you ever want it….” He seemed uncertain what to do, and then arbitrarily placed the can upon a nearby end table. “Yeah.”

“Thanks,” you said. 

It was awkward for a second, just the two of you in the quiet defunct hall. You were happy to find he had left his axe behind at least, but he was still unpredictable. You couldn’t know what he might do next. 

“So um,” you started falteringly, “you don’t know any other exits?”

Henry shook his head. “I wish I did. But nobody escapes. I’m sorry. You really should never have come in here.”

You wished that Henry would stop saying fatalistic things like that. “Because of… Bendy?” You filled in. 

“He’s a demon Joey Drew unleashed,” Henry explained, looking tired. “Don’t pretend like you believe me, I just - want you to remember this. There’s not any way to fight him, or resist him. Your best bet is hiding. Avoiding him.”

“Right.” 

“But if he catches you….” Henry shuddered, as if unable to complete his statement. 

“He’ll kill me?” You finished expectantly, frightened. In another situation, you would have found the idea funny, but Henry seriously scared you. 

“Killing would be a mercy. He…” Henry hesitated. “He wants to breed.”

You staggered back, reviled. Henry was a sick, perverted man. Imagining some sex-hungry demon to prey on you- “please leave me alone,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“No, you don’t understand - _I_ don’t want that. I don’t want that to happen to you, either! I want to protect you.”

Oh, sure. “Please just leave me alone.” 

You stalked back towards the front of the studio, willing to try your luck with the stupid door or your stupid friends again.

“Wait, please-“ Henry trotted after you. “I don’t mean any harm. I just haven’t seen another human down here in…”

“Please leave me alone!” The pressure must have really been getting to you, because your voice cracked, and you broke into a run. You pelted around two corners and ran for the exit as if it was going to - 

Wait. 

The door _was_ open! You gasped, realizing the exit was cracked and spilling through some morning light. You were free! Finally you could get away from this weirdo-

One foot landed on a soft board. 

_Crrrrrrrack_

Suddenly there was nothing under your feet. Your stomach swooped into your throat. Your hair raised as if defying gravity, then you realized you were falling. Your screams echoed through darkness. You were going to die. Wind and your thumping blood rushed in your ears. _You were going to die._

Then 

_Splash_

….

………..

………………

You became aware of your breathing first. Then coldness on your cheek. Cold wetness. 

Groaning, you sat up and clutched your throbbing head. 

What had… just happened?

Instinctively, you looked up. Far, far above you, you glimpsed a faintly twinkling light. Oh God. Oh no. 

That was the exit. And now you were lord knew how many floors below it. This was bad. Really, really bad. You didn’t know how to get out of here. For a moment, you were utterly, pathetically useless, as you hunched over and let out a few dry sobs. It was stupid, exceedingly stupid. A colossal waste of time, crying, but you couldn't help it. You curled up like a child and sobbed uncontrollable, cursing your horrible luck, and your stupid friends, and your stupid idea to enter this goddamn place. You wanted to have never stepped foot in here. You wanted to be _home._

But no matter what you wanted, you were now lost in some subterranean level of the studio. You hugged yourself, your fingers dipping into more of that cold wet substance, which seemed to be stained all across your body. 

_Blood?_

No. The yellow glow illuminating the area let you confirm it was black and smelled sharp. Ink. 

You had landed in a pool of ink. Gross, but at least nothing major seemed to be hurt… 

You checked your watch. It was frozen on 9:48. The front cover was smashed, glass littering the floor. You bit down the abrupt urge to cry again. Crying wouldn’t help. Shaking, you got to your feet. The stress really had to be getting to you, because you felt winded and you couldn't stop trembling. 

_Stay calm_, you urged. _Stay calm, it’s okay._

It wasn’t the least bit okay. But you had to keep moving. You couldn't stay down here. 

Meager yellow light guided you out into a hallway. Part of you was bewildered why the default studio would still have lights still functioning (and turned on) but mostly you didn’t want to wonder about what else might be down here with you. 

You swerved your head around. There had to be an exit labeled somewhere, right? 

After turning another corner, you came across a giant mural, with music notes and records painted on it. MUSIC DEPARTMENT it announced in big letters, beneath it, _Director: Sammy Lawrence. _

Huh. On another occasion, you might have liked to explore a place like this. You liked music a lot - even played the violin in class. But right now all you cared about was getting out. You brushed past the sign, trying to figure out where to go next. There was one staircase, but it descended down rather than up. 

You found a pool table, and a recording room. But no indication of an exit. 

It was only as you were leaving the recording room that a voice, at once smooth and terrifying, spoke behind you:

“Hello, little sheep.” 

You whipped around, a yelp escaping your throat. Your eyes couldn't make sense of the creature you were looking at. It was a man, but a man dripping black ink. A man whose face you first thought to be the impossible smiling face of Bendy. Then you realized he was wearing a mask. This man, this man scared you. He hadn’t done anything to you - he’d barely said anything - but already your bones were cold looking at him. He didn’t mean anything good. He was worse than Henry, way worse. 

You backed away, but he followed, tilting his head. “Aren’t you a succulent little specimen?”

Nobody had ever talked to you like that. You’d gotten your fair share of harassment, sure, but… that boldness, that directness, that was new. You crept further backwards. “Wh-who are you?”

The man… creature.. laughed, deep and rumbling. “If you absolutely must know, I am called Sammy. But truly, my name and existence are pathetically little, insignificant, compared to the glory of my Lord.”

_His Lord_?

“I see you are confused.” Thick inky fingers traced the edge of his mask. “Do you not recognize the perfect face of my Lord? Perhaps you know Him as Bendy…”

Oh God, this man believed the same lunacy as Henry did.

“Look, I just want to go home…” you answered, tremors working through your whole body. If you weren’t so scared, you would have been dismayed at your horrible handling of a stressful situation. That fall had rattled you immensely, and now Sammy scared the living shit out of you. “Please, please let me go. I’m sorry I intruded. I - I won’t bother you anymore. I’m sorry.”

“On the contrary, little sheep: you have done no wrong, none at all. In fact, I am delighted to see you here. Indeed… my Lord has long since worn through His breeding stock. You will make a welcome new addition.” 

Breeding stock? You remembered what Henry said, and disgust roiled in your stomach.

“Perhaps you are resilient?” Sammy mused, half to himself. “Perhaps your body can withstand Him. The last ones… they did not last long, no, not at all… Not at all… they were bad, bad sheep. Much too easily broken…” 

Oh God, had they been killing people down here? What the _fuck_ was happening in this studio?

You didn’t want to stick around to find out. And you definitely didn’t want to stick around to hear more of Sammy’s maniac remarks. You turned and ran. 

You didn’t make it far before something metal struck your head. 

Everything went dark. 

You woke up dizzily sometime later. Your back was pressed against the wall, your wrists chained above your head. Horrifyingly, you were wearing absolutely nothing. 

Sammy hummed not a few feet away from you, drawing weird pentagrams on the floor with red paint. At least you fucking hoped it was red paint. 

“Let me go,” you begged, struggling against the chains. God, you'd happily take days hanging out with Henry to this. At least Henry had never fucking hurt you. Oh God, what if Sammy had raped you? You didn’t feel any different, but he had removed your clothes… What if he was _about_ to rape you? What if he was going to kill you? 

“You’re awake.” Sammy rose. His mask was a perpetual smile, leaving his actual emotions a mystery.“Don’t be afraid, little sheep. My Lord shall be here soon, and you shall be filled with his divinity…. You should be proud to bear his fruit, to become swollen with his ink.”

You gagged. “What-? No, no no, look, you made a mistake, I - I don’t want this, I-“

Sammy laughed. “No. _You_ have made a mistake. My Lord does not require your consent. He only requires your body, little lamb. And you will provide it.”

“I won’t! I don’t want any part of this!” You thrashed in earnest, but all your struggling only made the chains bite into your wrists. 

“You will find you have no choice,” Sammy replied. “He has long needed the feel and taste of fertile human flesh… so few are foolish enough to wander here. Your arrival was long anticipated.”

You kicked and snarled, wishing a hundred misfortunes on this evil man. 

“But now He shall have what He desires,” Sammy sighed, his voice nearly a moan. He seemed to have finished whatever sigil or Satanic symbol it was that he was painting out. “He shall partake of human flesh again… Though it is not necessary, I am glad you are awake to experience His brilliance.”

“LET ME GO!” You screamed, and then any words devolved into meaningless screaming. It made no difference.

Sammy took his place in the center of the room. He spread his arms as if appealing to a higher power. “My Lord God, Bendy… for your perusal, I offer this supple and -“

“NO!” Your wrists stung viciously with the violence of your movements.

“soft lamb, who must be filled with your ink. If you so desire, I entreat you to take her, who is young and fertile-“ Sammy continued on, rattling off more and more hideous words that turn your stomach. He was making you out to be a - a doll, a sex slave, something that you weren’t. Something not human or worthy of human rights. But the longer he droned on, the more you prayed that nobody was listening - at least Sammy himself seemed to have no interest in you, so if his Lord didn’t exist (which you didn’t think he did), you’d be left unmolested, right? 

But then the room trembled. You thought, wildly, _earthquake_. It was a deep, ominous rumbling.

Sammy’s words cut short with a near-orgasmic gasp. He clutched his hands close to his chest. “Bendy,” he breathed. “Bendy, Bendy, Bendy, you grace us with your presence….”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but his conviction was starting to get under your skin, and your eyes flitted left, right, up, down, hunting for any sign of movement. Any sign of another monster approaching. Was Bendy approaching? What even was he? Were you really buying into this weird religious belief thing? But if it wasn’t that, then what could it be- 

Ink was dripping from cracks in the ceiling above, as the shadows in the room lengthened, then were swallowed up. The room kept getting darker, darker, darker, until you couldn't see an inch in front of your face. The heavy phenol stench of ink was powerful. 

Out of the dark emerged Sammy’s voice, warm and reverential, “my Lord… welcome. Please… please, though you need no invitation, I invite you to examine this sheep… is she not lovely?Will she not bear your young wonderfully?”

Your first thought reiterated what you already knew - Sammy was fucking insane. 

But then there was a low, rattling hiss. Like something was _responding_ to Sammy. Your body trembled.

“Please….” Sammy nearly whispered. “Taste of her.”

Something in the darkness shifted. You can’t say how you knew, because you could see nothing, and you could hear nothing. It was more like you sensed it. A presence heavy and demonic. And you felt something _watching_ you. Watching as if it saw every inch of you, crystal clear. Like you were a museum trinket on display.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your throat.

All this time, you’d been calling Sammy and Henry crazy. You’d assumed there was no basis for their belief in a god-like entity occupying the decaying studio. It occurred to you that you had been wrong. The demon did exist. It was something huge. Something everywhere at once. Something that was leaning nearer to you.

Hot breath sighed over your face, and fluttered a few stray hairs. Oh God. It was so close. So, so close.

“Bendy?” You whispered hoarsely, daringly, barely breathing. It was almost comical. Ridiculous. To think some powerful creature had been given that name, was related in any way to a cartoon character like that. But you didn’t feel like laughing at all.

The creature, whatever it was (god, you almost didn’t want to know), huffed its own laugh. Its breath was foul. Like a slaughterhouse soaked in rubbing alcohol. It said nothing. You weren’t sure if it could. But it certainly found your fragile, inquiring word amusing. 

You couldn't help the mewl that escaped you. You were so, so helpless. Stripped bare and tied up for the perusal of a monster. You wanted to be back with your friends. Far away from the studio. You wanted to go back to believing that monsters weren’t real. That was infinitely better than knowing this _thing_ existed. And that it was about to…  Your mind filled in _kill you_ until, horrifyingly, you remembered Sammy and Henry’s words. 

It didn’t want to kill you, they had said. It wanted to breed with you.

Something touched your bare thigh - you let out a scream and flinched away, sobbing. “Bendy, please no-“ you blubbered stupidly. You didn’t think there was any such thing as pleading to this thing. Whatever it was, it was inhuman, evil. But you couldn't help yourself. “P-please let me go- I won’t tell anyone-“ 

You knew just how pathetic you were. You doubted the creature cared one bit about whether you told or not. Just as it didn’t care one bit for your life or welfare.

Something slick wrapped around your thigh, this time forceful, purposeful. “NO!” You thrash, as if you could possibly wiggle your way out of its grip, but the tendril, almost like a tentacle, was impossibly strong, only tightening further.

_Sammy_, you thought desperately. He might be your last hope. He had seemed… at least _close_ to human. You twisted in place, hunted for the man in the darkness without finding him. “Sammy, Sammy,” you cried out, “please stop it. Don’t let this happen. What do you want? I’ll do anything, just -”

Sammy’s laugh was rich and dark. “Dear sheep… I desire nothing but my Lord’s pleasure.”

Another tendril wrapped around your other thigh, and, on the heels of that, dozens of those foul wet tentacles descended upon you, dripping on your skin, winding around your limbs. Instinctive terror rose - the terror of prey captured in the relentless grip of a predator. Your body jerked on the chain wildly, but only more and more of those revolting things snared you. Tasting had been an apt description. The first few had sampled you, and now the monster had made a decision - it wanted you. And you had no choice in the matter. 

You squeezed your eyes shut - it made no difference in your vision, anyway - and sobbed uncontrollably. Panic had flared white and hot in your chest, but your struggling had done nothing at all. You were more trapped than when you started, and those tendrils were beginning to caress and knead over your flesh, as if admiring your attributes. Several coiled around your breasts, dipped down your stomach. 

“STOP!” You screamed with your waning energy, jerking again in the restraints. Something warm was trickling down your forearms - it took you a second to realize it was blood from the cuffs. “Let me go! I don’t want th- thi…“ A shudder ran through you.

A tendril had looped between your legs, and it pressed just right. This was horrible. It wanted you to enjoy this? To enjoy your own torture and rape? Vomit prickled at the back of your throat. You hated the sensation flaring in your stomach, knew that being used like this would forever ruin your pleasure. As if you'd ever get out of here - 

Oh God, you needed to try to escape. You couldn’t let this be your fate. But what were you supposed to do?

The hot pressure between your legs began to undulate. Much of you was disgusted, but there was a weird sensation blooming. You weren’t unfamiliar with sexual arousal. But this - this was something different. Its trickling tingling feeling spread to your thighs, which seemed to relax without your will. Your heart hammered as your legs nearly collapsed beneath you. What was this? What was it doing? The sensation spread your stomach. It was warm, cloying, relaxing. Like a wave of comfort flowing through the inside of your body.

“S-stop,” you said weakly, even as your eyes lidded, and every muscle eased. The monster was doing something to you - seeping into your brain like liquid into the cracks of a rock. Wearing away at you. 

You threshed your head from side to side, as if to cast off its influence. “Stop,” you muttered, even more diminished. What was this? How could it do this to you? Was it not enough that it was attacking your body - it had to infiltrate your mind? You never knew things like this existed; you wish you had never learned. You tried to fight, but it was as if your nerves were being coated in light fluff, as if your stress was being rocked on an ocean’s calming waves. 

Meanwhile, more and more of the monster was wrapping around you. It seemed like not one inch of your body was left without treatment and care. The touches became less gripping and more… cradling. Your feet left the ground, your weight no longer supported by chains. The monster was holding you entirely. You could barely even feel the manacles around your wrists anymore. 

There was nothing to worry about. It had you. It had you safe.

“No-“ you mumbled, some part of your tired consciousness grappling to cling to sanity. You were in the clutches of a monster. You needed to free yourself. You needed…

_Shhhhh_

You’re not sure if it was a physical sound, or just something inside your own head. All you knew is it was the creature. _Shhhhh_ it sighed to you. And it was ever so warm, ever so soothing. Swirling around you. A dopey smile spread across your face. You were consumed in its darkness. Enveloped. Safe.

But no you couldn't be - no, you needed to - needed to - 

_Shhhhh. _Something long and slick was laving between your legs, lick after lick as if it wanted nothing more than to please you. You weren’t sure if you spread your legs, or it the monster pried them apart. You weren’t even entirely sure what was up or down, left or right. You were suspended in absolute darkness, but it wasn’t disorienting or frightening anymore. 

A wet tip nuzzled between your folds, first one side, then another, before grazing delicately over your clit. You squirmed, laughed breathily. Your mind felt like it was floating, drifting in an abyss of ink. Soaked and warm and loose. It occurred to you the creature…. Bendy, Sammy had said Bendy, right? Bendy wanted in. He was pressing at the soft pink entrance. You weren’t sure if all the wetness you felt was ink or your own excitement - likely a mix of both. 

You nodded sloppily, your lips forming words of permission. Although you’re sure you didn’t actually say anything, he understood. In contrast to the romantic pace from before, he shoved into you hard, and he was thicker than anything you’ve ever taken. It wasn’t like regular sex, not at all - it was like a snake slithering in and coiling within you. A strangled cry was muffled against ink. It _hurt_. But distantly. Like the pain was barely part of your own body. And soon, with him softly rippling inside you, it soothed to a pleasant, erotic stretch. It felt weird, surreal. 

You sighed a moan, arching your back. He seemed to be kneading you from the inside, pressing all the right spots, filling you entirely, far more than any man could. 

Unconsciously, your hand descended to touch your abdomen (his tentacles shifted to allow this motion), and you could _feel_ him inside you through your skin. This… this probably wasn’t healthy… but you didn’t want to stop him (it’s not like you could if you wanted to, anyway). 

He seemed infinite, and could hold you without the slightest difficulty. His strength was imminent in every tentacle, each which could undoubtedly break your bones. But he held you with the greatest of gentleness, and stroked your arms, your stomach, your cheeks, with the tenderness of a lover. You felt cherished in the clutches of a monster. 

Hazily, you expected him to begin thrusting. To use you to seek his pleasure. 

But… he didn’t. 

For some reason you had assumed his physiology would be comparable to a human’s, but it wasn’t - you realized that once the strange organ within you began to pump like a pipe formed of ink. 

“Wh-?” You groggily shifted, then - hot pleasure exploded as ink funneled into you. It wasn’t any normal sort of climax, if it was a climax at all - it seemed like endless amounts of the vicious liquid were being pumped into your body, deep deep within you. 

Your thighs tensed as your orgasm ripped through you. Your walls clenched down on his serpentine organ, your breathing ragged. Very very quickly, the sensation of being filled became too much. You were overstimulated, overwhelmed, but had no choice to be held and used like a toy. It was frightening how little you minded that. 

You groaned and spread your legs, as it to invite him, to say that you were willing to take anything for him. Although, you weren’t even sure if you could… load after load of ink was forced into you, until you were certain there wasn’t anywhere left for it to go- 

You were bloated, overstuffed, but still more ink inflated you until your belly was swollen and straining to contain all the liquid. 

Finally Bendy ripped free. Some ink splattered out of you, but most was plugged in, by means you didn’t understand. All you knew was that the darkness was abruptly retreating from you, and you didn’t want him gone. Not so soon. Not so fast. You wanted him still. Wanted him, perhaps, to stay and cradle and comfort you after what the two of you had done.

“Wait-“ you utter pathetically, collapsed to the ground with your stomach round and heavy. The ink pushed against your diaphragm from the inside, making it difficult to breath. “Wait, please stay-“

But light was returning to the room nonetheless. You saw only a glimpse of two immense sharp-pointed horns, an unholy blend of bone and ink, before the monster’s presence was gone entirely.

Your mind felt fuzzy, your body used and stuffed. But gradually your thoughts were clearing, your emotions settling. It was as if the departure of the creature had allowed you to return, slowly, to your senses. You blinked and looked down at yourself in disbelief. At your stretched ink-splattered skin. Oh God. 

Oh God

Oh God oh god ohgodohgod 

Panic flared, muted by the creature’s weird drug-like influence, but there nonetheless. You had just been raped by an otherworldly demon. And something from it - something was still inside you - 

Tears pricked your ears. This can’t have just happened. How could you have wanted it? It was something that thing did to you - some power it had - 

“There is no need for panic,” a rumbling voice murmurs. 

Sammy. He was still there. He’d been in the room the whole time. 

You swung your gaze to him wildly. “I don’t want them,” you whispered, lacking any energy at all. It was like you just ran a race after staying up three nights in a row. The monster had exhausted you in a way beyond belief. But you were horrified, disgusted, you wanted these things in you _out_. 

Sammy tilted his head to the side as he approached - it only make him look eerier, creepier. “You will want them,” he said. “In time.”

He neared you as if nearing a shrine, and knelt by your side. 

You were at this point, pitifully crying. “I-I don’t,” you whimpered. 

His fingers skimmed over your stretched, painful belly, as if all you were was an object to be probed. You didn’t have the energy to pull away.

“Magnificent,” Sammy purred. “A successful transfer of eggs.”

_Eggs? _“_No_,” you pleaded, grabbing Sammy’s wrist. You didn’t like Sammy at all, but he was the only one with you now. “This is wrong. Y-you gotta get me out of here…”

Sammy laughed quietly. “No, my little ewe. They will grow inside you until they are ready to come out. They are quite small now, you see… but there are many…” his fingers continue to stroke your stomach. “It will be difficult for you, but you seem strong… I am pleased you survived the first encounter with my Lord. He is… extraordinary, isn’t He?” Sammy uttered breathily, a longing in his tone. 

You sobbed. “Please, Sammy…”

Sammy cradled your cheek. His mask, perpetually, smiled big and wide. “Do not fear, little ewe. I will tend to you, and the eggs you carry for Him. No harm will come to you or them.”

Oh God, he really only saw you as some - some _incubator_, not a person. You would find no help from him. 

Sammy stood purposefully, pride and excitement in his voice. “And if all goes well, He shall have many successful litters with your womb. Are not delighted to be of such service to him?”

You curled up in despair. How were you ever going to escape?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this on my list of "unfinished two-shots" and wrote the second chapter only to realize this story was posted as complete already. 
> 
> Oh well. Have a second chapter.

Sammy left you chained up: cold, naked, with so little energy and so little hope. Between your legs throbbed like a constant beat of both pleasure and pain, like your body was still craving that monster’s touch, and yet was tender still from his visit. You were enraged at how easily your own flesh betrayed you. Disgusted by what had been done to you. Still, exhaustion overcame those sensations, and sooner or later, you were pulled into a hazy sleep. 

It couldn’t have been long before you were woken by a strange twinge inside your body. Groaning, you tried to sit up, only to find a strange amount of weight around your midsection that you were not at all accustomed to. An astonishingly heavy weight. 

When you glanced down, your eyes widened to witness the pale swollen curve that your midsection had become: your tummy was bloated and distended painfully. Full to bursting. The skin stretched so taunt that even in the dim light you could make out the soft shapes of spheres pressed against the skin from the inside.The mere sight sent waves of nausea through you. They were eggs. _His_ eggs. That _monster’_s eggs. They weighed so heavily inside you, making it hard to breathe properly, sapping your energy… 

It had only been one night, right? How could you have gotten so heavy with pregnancy in such a short time? This was unnatural, inhuman… then again, everything about this was. Everything you knew about sex and pregnancy was thrown out the window, because simply put, you _hadn’t_ had sex with a human. Some beast, some demon, had forced itself on you. Nothing about the situation was normal. So things weren’t going to progress normally, clearly.

Trembling, your fingers drifted over your belly. It was hard to believe this was part of you… that your body could ever accommodate so many eggs. You shuddered. You would have happily gone your entire life, not knowing that demons like him could exist. Not knowing that things like this could be done to people. More than anything, you wished it had not happened to you. You wished you could carve out the spawn growing in you, and destroy them before they had any chance to truly live. What sort of terrible beings would they be? You were not naive enough to believe that any part of you went into them. You were just… a container, a warm home for them to grow inside until they were ready to emerge. Their nature, you had no doubt, was wholly demonic.

“Oh, good,” a purring voice came from the door. 

Gasping, you looked up. Sammy Lawrence. Holding a food tray. “You’ve already woken.”

Your expression contorted. “Let me free!”

“No, I’m afraid that’s not an option.” Whistling, he entered the room. Well, _he _was in an infuriatingly cheerful mood. You suppose this was all well and good for him: he got a goddamn _sheep_, and earned his Lord’s approval. He must be on cloud nine. But you? Yeah, you were pissed. 

“I don’t care,” you snarled. “I want out of this place right now!” 

Sammy tilted his head. His mask never betrayed any emotion. Even so, you hated being under his scrutiny. Hated to see him, like his madness was both incomprehensible and infectious. “Don’t worry, little sheep,” he murmured in a tone that you imagined was supposed to be soothing and was anything but, “you will come to love serving Him.” His breath hitched at the word _Him._ His reverence for the monster called Bendy disgusted you. 

More than anything, you wished you had never come across this place… you wished you had never entered. At this moment, what were your friends doing? Have they called the police? They must have, right? Wouldn’t the police come down here and put a stop to all these atrocities? 

“Here,” Sammy said, setting his tray down gently and pulling soup cans off it. What kind of weirdo even puts soup cans on a food tray? 

Revulsed, you tried to scoot away, but your heavy belly and the chains around your naked form stifled the action. 

“Some food,” he presented, like he expected you to be grateful. “I will open it for you, sheep… you must eat well for the health of the lambs…” 

“I’ll starve myself before I let myself be used for this,” you snapped back, holding on to the remnants of your shredded pride. At the very least, you found comfort in knowing you could talk back to Sammy and he wouldn't hurt you. You’re not sure the same could be said of Bendy. Sammy didn’t seem to care _what_ you said, as long as you took care of the eggs inside you. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Sammy crooned. “If you refuse, I must force you. And that is profoundly unpleasant for the both of us.”

“Force…?” The heat was taken out of your words and you dreaded to consider what Sammy meant. 

He simply nodded. “Yes. Don’t think you are the first sheep attempting to starve itself to be free.”

Oh. Right. Others had been mentioned before. Other women used for their bodies like this… You shuddered. 

“None of them succeeded,” Sammy said casually, as if his statement had no more impact than a remark on the weather. “However, I do ask you not to try. It’s quite unpleasant, and you will deliver the eggs in the end nonetheless.”

“Um. Noted.” While part of you still wanted to protest with every last bit of energy within you, a more reasonable part pointed out that it would be better to build your strength, ready yourself to flee the studio… If you could at least make it to the first floor of the studio, maybe Henry would help you out -

Then you remembered Henry’s long, sad face. His defeated eyes. Assertions that nobody had ever made out. Even if you got his help… could you possibly escape? The sheer overwhelming terror of having to stay here _forever_ weakened you. Like never before, you sympathized with Henry. You should have listened to him when you still had the chance…

Tiredly, you accepted the soup that Sammy offered. It was salty, gross. But it was food. Bite after bite you swallowed. There had to be something strange about the soup, because although it was very salty, you didn’t feel any accompanying thirst. It let you vaguely wondering if normal rules didn’t apply in this place, if you could be kept forever on nothing more than the gross bacon soup. Was this your existence now?

No… You couldn’t give up. That’s what you kept telling yourself, because it was the only way to avoid losing hope completely. 

Once you finished the soup, Sammy decided that he needed to examine you. Which was all levels sick, and although you try to kick him away, the chains halt any significant movement. Helplessness was the new norm, you were realizing with dread, as Sammy proded and stroked your belly, humming thoughtfully like he’s gleaned some useful information from the examination. “A healthy brood,” he stepped away, and although you couldn’t see his face, you could easily read the smile in his voice. 

“You are perhaps one of my Lord’s most durable sheep,” Sammy remarked. He said it like he expected you to be grateful to hear it. Like you’d enjoy the compliment. You gagged from mere thought. 

Thankfully, Sammy left you alone after that. It gave you time to look around the room, assess your surroundings. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to look at. Just posters on the walls, from a bygone animation era, and blank wooden planks. There was only one door: the one Sammy left from (the very one that _snicked_ with the click of a lock as he left, in case the chains binding you weren’t sufficient, yeesh).

“_Goddamnit_,” you swore under your breath. Did it even matter if there was another exit or escape route? You had no hope of going anywhere with these chains binding you. This system was a tried and true one. God only knew what would face you even if you did manage to escape the chains and then the room. This wasn’t just some weirdo novice serial killer kidnapping their first victim, which was a bad enough idea. This was… someone who had kidnapped a lot of women. Men, too, maybe - hadn’t Henry mentioned something about that? Either way, Sammy knew exactly what he was doing, even if he was completely out of his mind. You had a horrible feeling there was no escaping him. 

And Bendy? 

A shiver crawled along your spine, recalling that beast that barely had shape or form, but seemed to occupy all space at once, seemed to press in on your skin from all angles, seemed to dig deep into your skull and settle deep inside you. Him… him you were very, very afraid to face again. And you didn’t think he’d allow anyone to escape. Not one person. 

You hunched into as small a ball as the chains allowed, as Sammy still hadn’t allotted you any clothes, and maybe never would. Why would a breeding sheep need clothes after all? You were here for one purpose and one purpose alone. That purpose didn’t require you to be clothed. 

The thought sickened you. You had to do something, you had to fight back… But every rebellious thought had nowhere to go. There was nothing to do. It dismayed and shocked you how swiftly you had been rendered helpless. 

It was… nothing like you'd expect. To some extent, you had always felt like there’s be more fight in you. You were the sort who carried keys slotted between her fingers at night. The sort that avoided dark alleyways. The sort that never let someone else pour her drink. You were careful. You were wise. Knowledgable. You thought, sometimes, about people trying to grab you or hurt you, but in your mind you always expected you’d kick up some fight, some fuss. That you’d do something. 

And here you are… stuck. The battle was lost before it ever even began, because you weren’t prepared, you were caught off guard. There was never even any chance to fight back. The unfairness of it makes you bitter and angry, but no amount of anger changes the facts. 

Wallowing in all these thoughts, you can’t but to begin sobbing pathetically, wishing desperately for home. To be normal sized again, without this clutch of eggs growing in your belly. You wish you never heard about this studio…

Wishes, though, didn’t get you very far at all. 

* * *

The next few days were marked with horrendous monotony and fear. Your stomach grew bigger and bigger. No position was comfortable. The pain was a ceaseless thrumming, and flared up sharp and vicious whenever you shifted. It was agony, and brought you to tears more than once. You'd never cried so easily before - your friends always considered you the tough one, the leader. And now you were so far from that. In your cell, there was no clock, no window, no way to tell the time at all. All of it was a horrendous eternal half-light illuminated by yellowed fluorescence. Everything bled together like a dream. There was nothing to do but sleep, but your painful belly and your abysmal situation prevented you from staying asleep for long. So everything blended into a haze. Not sure when you were awake or when you were asleep, especially when your dreams began to confine themselves into the studio as well, as if your imagination had ceased to extend beyond the nightmare of your existence. 

The only thing that broke the monotony was Sammy. He visited very often, and you even began to look forward to his visits, for the companionship and break in tedium. Sammy, for his part, was more than happy to see you, too. He came with food (always bacon soup, always), and always greeted you with delight - the sort of delight you might greet a particularly cherished pet with, but any company was better than none, even if that company viewed you as an animal. 

Sammy did talk to you, too, which was nice, even if most of his questions concerned Bendy’s eggs. He spoke soothingly, and never failed to compliment you for your exemplary tending of the eggs. Truthfully, you weren’t sure what he meant, because you didn’t feel like you were doing anything special, and you’d still rather kill the eggs inside you. But he assured you that others before did worse, were neglectful of their bodies, and had to be forced to continue their pregnancies. He said you were his favorite so far, and he hoped that you’d survive the birth. Mostly, that statement chilled you. Just a little, though, it felt nice to be called a favorite. 

Sammy also washed you routinely. He’d bring in a bucket and a sponge, and sponge all over, giving especial attention to your swollen belly and the spot between your legs. At first, you’d protested and squirmed, but even that was draining to your energy and painful. Soon enough, you lost any real sense of modesty, and let Sammy bathe you without complaint. He wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. He seemed to have no sexual interest in you himself, either. He just wanted to care for you, and make sure your body was in good health.

If you were particularly lucky, Sammy might sing while doing this task. The songs themselves were unnerving, especially if you paid too close attention to the lyrics, but his voice was deep and rumblingly smooth. Hypnotic, even. More than once you dozed off, lulled by his song. 

“How can you sing so well?” You asked once, drowsily, as he lightly rubbed a soapy cloth along your inner thighs. 

He raised his head, seemingly surprised by the question. “Well,” he said, “I _am_ the Music Director.”

“Oh.” Am, or more likely, _was_. So he was once a man. That revelation came with a rush of pity, of sadness. Unlike Bendy, a formless fathomless monster, Sammy’s body was built on the template of humanity. He wasn’t a demon, but rather a corrupted human. And maybe he hadn’t asked for this life. Maybe he had gone crazy. Maybe you were only seeing the fractured remnants of what he was once. “I’m sorry,” you answered softly. 

Sammy laughed. “There is no reason to be sorry, little one. I am happy to serve my Lord with songs and praise.”

Your hatred for Bendy only surged. Bendy impregnated you. Bendy drove Sammy to madness. Bendy was the real enemy here, you were sure. But… all Sammy did was praise him. Love him. Adore him. It saddened you. Made you furious. Many times, Sammy even clasped your hands, and made you pray to the demon with him, which was frightening beyond compare. Both because of his manic belief in Bendy, and because of your terror that his prayers would summon the demon again. However, the demon never responded, never replied, never came. Not once did Sammy seem surprised about that. Not for the first time it occurred to you that the demon never came to Sammy’s prayers or summons, not unless Sammy had something worth him arriving. 

This only made you hate Bendy more. Sammy wouldn't hear a word of it, though. He had only good things to say about the demon. Bringing up a single word of your disagreement brought out a sharp irascible side to Sammy, so you learned quickly not to. 

Time passed, marked only by your swelling stomach and Sammy’s visits, until one (day? night?) moment you jerk awake from yet another foggy half-dream, eyes wide, to the sensation of pain, which by no means was unfamiliar, but in this case, the pain was _lower_. Cradled in your groin. 

_Oh no._

Even having never experienced this before, some part of you instinctively knew. 

Your stomach was tense and taunt, worse than ever before. Sweat stood out on your skin, even in the chilly studio air. 

The eggs were ready to come out. 

_Oh no no no no-_

Somehow, even through all Sammy’s tending in the past few days, you hadn’t properly conceptualized the idea of these things actually leaving your body. You weren’t ready. You didn’t want this at all - 

There wasn’t any stopping it once it started, though. Your stomach actually seized right before your eyes, accompanied with a horrid agony. It felt as if your belly wasn’t part of your body, that it was doing things without your say-so, clenching and relaxing against your will. Your spine seemed to seize with it, a kind of pain that was indescribable; each time it happened, you were terrified something had wrenched out of place. Over the next hours, you agonizingly maneuvered your body into a dozen different positions, but nothing was comfortable. 

Sammy found you, with your hot cheek on the cool floor as you panted, convulsions rippling through you. 

Instantly he dove to your side, and stroked your back. Through his murmured encouragements, and a seemingly endless ordeal of gasping and heaving, you somehow managed to push all the eggs from your shuddering frame.

While you laid in your sweat and exhaustion, having not even the energy to wonder how you even survived, Sammy fell upon the ink-soaked egg that had spewed from your body. You only faintly saw them from the corners of your eyes: a collection of black spheres amidst thick spatters of ink and blood. 

Delight was heavy in Sammy’s voice as he crowed over them, although your flagging consciousness did little to make sense of the words. You just… wanted sleep. You didn’t want anything to do with the eggs. 

So you care little when Sammy began to scoop them in his arms, and bear them away to some other place. Your cheek touches the cold floor again. Torn all out from the inside, you fled consciousness rapidly.

* * *

Sammy shook you awake far before you wanted to wake.

Everything ached. Like you were ripped inside. Ruined. You felt like something had scraped out all your insides with a spoon. 

Tiredly, you lifted your head, dreading whatever it was Sammy might want. 

His cardboard face just smiled and smiled away. “Hello, little lamb,” he purred, quivering with childish excitement.

“Sammy,” you sighed, the single word seeming to consume all the energy. Your gaze lazily traveled around the room. The eggs were gone. You didn’t know what Sammy had done to them - briefly, the image of him sitting on them like a hen crossed your mind, and even despite yourself, you couldn't help a soft snort of laughter. Anything to provide comfort here, after you felt so used and beaten. Maybe Sammy would wash you again, rinse off all the ink staining your thighs. Maybe he’d bring warm soup. Maybe-

“It’s time for my Lord to visit again,” Sammy said instead. There was a trembling in his voice. Bendy only turned up for evens he considered worthy enough for his presence. Events he had to be there for. Like breeding you. And Sammy looked forward to it intently. You? You did not. The mere suggestion of his presence filled you with awful dread. 

“N-no,” you mumbled, raking messy hair from your face. “No, Sammy, I don’t want -“

Sammy laughed, low and dark. “You are a marvelous sheep. Your first litter was healthy, strong. It would be a waste not to use your body again. Anyhow….” His voice darkened. “I fear my Lord is growing impatient.”

“N-no, I’m not ready-“

Sammy shook his head. “This is what my Lord wants. And he will come. As he always will, for you. Is that not wonderful?”

Shudders coursed through you. “No, Sammy, please- I’m not ready - just another day-“

Laughing, Sammy shook his head and reared up. “Are you not now empty of his offspring? Have you not already shed every last egg he placed in you? Then it’s time to receive new brood. New ink within your womb.”

“No-“ your guts twisted at the mere idea. You couldn’t endure all that again, not so soon, not EVER. 

Thing is, Sammy was right. You don’t have choices down here. You don’t have any opinion anyone will listen to. 

When Bendy came - and he does did again as Sammy promised - he raveled you up in his grip, and used you again, pumping gallons of ink into your womb, while Sammy gleefully watched. 

As much as you dreamed about the outside, about your normal life, even about Henry a few stories above, you knew your fate. You knew there was no escape. This was your life now. 

Thus the next days passed much like the first. Cold chains, Swollen belly. Agonizing labor that you somehow survive through, by means you can’t fathom. Only to be raped again by Bendy. 

Sammy watched you. He fed you. He provided water. Several days in, he even brought you a blanket and a pillow, and loosened the chains. He confessed again that you’re his favorite sheep. That no other has produced such large litters for his Lord, that the eggs are healthy, and he’s proud of your body for being such a good home for his Lord’s offspring. Every word sickened your stomach, until it really didn’t anymore. Until it started to sound nice. Like a real compliment. 

Time passed. Time passed. Meanwhile, you grew thinner and thinner, despite your bulging belly. Your cheeks became hollow, your ribs prominent. Your hair became thin and unkept, despite Sammy’s attentions to clean and comb it, all the while singing little tunes or promising to make you better. 

He worried over your condition, bringing more and more soup to try to get your weight up again. You ate at his bidding, disappointed in some way that your condition might interfere with your abilities to bear eggs. Sammy worried for the same thing. 

Gradually, you grew to understand what Sammy had been talking about all along. Even his worship of Bendy was infectious, as you could understand why one might see such an unknowable and powerful monster as a deity. You were happy, that your body could be useful to him, that with Sammy’s help, you could reliably deliver group after group of eggs, where you knew others before you had grown too weary and failed, their bodies broken and used up. 

You knew one day that would be your fate as well. You knew that, even despite Sammy’s best efforts, delivering a clutch of eggs a day would be far too much for you, and one day, you would be deemed no longer productive enough, and killed, if the heavy burden of pregnancy and childbirth didn’t first kill you. However, you didn’t despair at this. At least you had been the favorite, the best, and your body proved to be most useful to Bendy. 

Because of that, the few hours you sleep were peaceful ones.

The studio was your home. 

Rarely, very rarely, your mind wandered back to Henry, trapped high above your head, miserable and stewing over the difficulties of the studio. But that was of little importance to you now. Sometimes, you thought of people you thought you once knew, but weren’t sure. There might have been life outside of the studio. But you hardly remembered it, not when the endless cycle of sex, pregnancy, and childbirth had overshadowed all else about your existence. 

You were happy here. 


End file.
